Children of the Corn: A Match Made in Hell
by Corpus-Vile
Summary: My very first publication here! Introducing my belligerent and lovely OC, Sage. She is attacked by someone who is as brutal as herself, taken captive by children, and set up to be lashed by none other than her malicious assailant (Malachai). Is there anything more for her in Gatlin? Is Isaac a just and fair leader? R&R would be awesome. I do not own anything other than Sage.
1. Chapter 1 - Welcome to Gatlin

CHAPTER ONE – WELCOME TO GATLIN

I was about to get the shit beaten out of me, that much was clear. Let me give you my position…

_I had to leave. There were no logical reasons behind my departure, just that it had to happen, at any and all costs. _

_ All I had to my name now were the clothes on my back, the crap that I had hastily jammed in my backpack, and my self-defense skills. _

_ I needed a phone. I needed a bathroom. I needed a shower. I needed a place to sleep. _

_ Rows and rows of corn weren't really what I had in mind, so I continued trekking down the road. I saw signs for Gatlin; where there's a town, there's civilization. _

_ I stopped short when I heard ranting and huffing in the field beside me. I strained to hear the words, but they were muffled. Angry, though. No doubt about that. My curiosity got the best of me – as it often did – and I cautiously stepped into the maze of corn. The stalks were taller than me, and I knew I would get lost._

_ The sound of voices grew closer, and in between the stalks, I glimpsed what I thought were people in a clearing. As I got nearer, I realized that it was a band of teenagers, all seated Indian-Style, looking in the same general direction. _

_ I decided to back off. I turned around slowly and came face-to-face with a monster of a boy. _

And that's where I remained.

The tall boy with broad shoulders, tangled red hair, and a scowl pressed a calloused hand to my mouth, and drew a machete from its holster on his waist.

"Mmmph!" I protested against his palm, struggling backwards into the arms of a second assailant. He gripped me underneath the armpits and held me off the ground. It fucking hurt.

The redhead grinned maniacally as he pressed the knife to my throat.

_Not today._

A sudden, almost inhuman surge rushed through me; adrenaline gave me aid in the face of death, and I savagely kicked out in front of me. I didn't see where, but I had nailed the redhead hard. He grunted in pain and stumbled backwards, dropping the knife.

The surprise from the force of the kick connecting with a body caused some sort of confusion for the guy who was holding my arms out. As soon as I felt him slack off a bit, I twisted as hard as I could to one side, moving almost to flip him, and simultaneously slide out of his choke-hold. He rolled to the ground, hit something – lucky for me, and I leapt up, and lunged for the knife.

I was met by the redhead, who had somewhat recovered from my attack – sounds cheesy, I know. His practiced hand reached the handle of the weapon and I, out of desperation, wrapped my hands around the blade.

Sharp, searing, red-hot pain shot through me, numbing my tongue. It ebbed quickly though, as more adrenaline pulsed through me. If there was a God, He or She was certainly on my side today.

I curled my hands into fists; I couldn't afford anymore gashes in appendages I needed so badly in my life. The redhead snarled in rage and ran forward. He would either try to run me through deliberately, or attempt to hack me into pieces.

I sidestepped, which was my only option. He caught his balance and whipped around to face me.

"OUTLANDER!" He cried, rushing towards me once again. He raised the knife over his head as he approached, and I ducked, using my shortness to my advantage. I lunged forward, feet pressing the ground hard, and hit the boy right in the abdomen. I aimed to take him down, and I did. My arms were around him like a bear hug to the belly.

We hit the ground together, and his weight combined with the sharpness of his spine sent a jolt of agony through my torn hands. I screamed, and in defense, dug my fingernails into his lower back. I hoped he would roll over so I could throttle him and smash his face into the dirt. He snarled again and rolled, trying to pry me off of him.

_He's using both hands… the knife! He must have dropped it!_

I could taste victory, even as he repeatedly lashed out. With a screech of rage I hadn't felt in months – it felt so good to be the old me again – I grabbed both of his hands in my bleeding ones. Even under his kicking legs, I moved up to straddle his lower stomach.

He stared at me, and I looked directly into his eyes. At that moment, we were both merciless, and hungry for blood. I took the collar of his plaid shirt in one hand, balled it up into a fist. And I raised my other hand above my head, leaned back, flexed, and delivered an elbow to his cheek. I saw tears well up in his eyes as the laceration on his face began to ooze.

I skittered backwards, took the knife from the ground, and stood over my assailant.

He looked up at me, the cut on his face already beginning to scab and bruise.

I held the point of the machete right above his heart. "You can't just go around attacking people. Especially if you don't know what they're capable of."

He snickered, all fear gone, replaced with loathing and vile aggression. "We'll see what you're capable of when Judgment Day arrives." With a cough I took to be a laugh, the redhead passed out beneath me.

Believing the carnage had passed, I slumped over, dropped the knife a few yards away, and turned to walk out of the cornfield.

"Welcome to Gatlin, interloper." A short boy of about twelve with a nasally voice and a large, round, black hat greeted me. He was backed up by about fifteen or sixteen other children who all looked to be about his age. A boy and a girl stood beside him. They were probably seven. I took a quick look at my attackers. They were probably eighteen. Taking a closer look at the group facing me, I could pick out two or three characters who may have been the same age as my assailants.

"Yeah, welcome indeed… I wanna use a fucking payphone, a shower, and bathroom. Is that too much to ask?"

"You've intruded on our land. He Who Walks Behind the Rows tells me that such an act as this is punishable only by death." The boy with the hat slowly stepped around me to look at the damage. He had a judgmental air about him, and he tapped his foot impatiently.

I glanced at the larger boy, the one who had me in a choke-hold. "In my defense, that lummox hit a rock."

Angrily, the boy hissed at me, "I'm not worried about Amos. _This _is my henchman. Always loyal, never failing…" he walked in a circle around the body before meeting my eyes. "You cut Malachai down where he stood. What powers do you posses?"

My jaw dropped, slack with surprise and confusion. "P-Powers? I have no idea what you're—"

"Sarah!" The boy interrupted me and brought forth the young girl. "Tell me, what gift did our Lord bestow upon this woman?"

Sarah looked at me. Her eyes were dark with worry and her face was dirty. She looked up and took the boy's hand. "She has no special gifts, Isaac. I told you that. But she is valuable… Her life is worth keeping."

"Ah yes," the boy, Isaac, reached forward with his free hand and cupped my chin. "You will be of use to us, my dear one."

"You're fucked up!" I backed away.

"Your tongue is sharp, and inappropriate. You will receive ten lashes from Malachai tomorrow when he awakens. Or tonight." He smirked, "whichever comes sooner. I will enjoy seeing how you react to such punishment." Isaac turned to Sarah, "come. We will take her away."

I followed them – I didn't have much choice – as the others retrieved Malachai and Amos from the dirt.

_Welcome to fucking Gatlin. _

* * *

_Please R&R! I'm working on a second chapter, and it will be up very soon. _


	2. Chapter 2 - Devil's Spawn

CHAPTER TWO – Devil's Spawn

Not much after I was led away was clear to me when I woke up. Sun streamed in, and dust particles floated in the air around me.

The little girl from last night, Sarah, came in through the door. "It's time to get up and ready yourself." She took my hand and we walked outside to a clearing near a barn. I had no idea where I was in relation to my position last night. I hurt too much to even worry about it.

I flexed my hands, and the scabbed over gashes re-opened and I grimaced.

We met Isaac in the clearing. Beside him was Malachai, with a bandage over the wound on his face.

"Remove your shirt." Isaac commanded.

"Uh, excuse me?"

"The lashes, outlander. You deserve to bleed." Malachai snarled.

"You're lucky I didn't kill you, boy." I retorted, spitting at his feet.

Rage flared within him again and he tore open my shirt and spun me around. Red flags went up in my mind. I crossed my arms, put on my game face, and awaited the lashes.

Nothing came.

Malachai and Isaac were staring at my back.

"Lashes. Now, please. I'd like to have time to heal."

Isaac looked at Malachai, and his poker-face returned. "Ten, Malachai."

I barely felt the first sting. The next nine increased in pain.

"That's enough!" Isaac raised his hand to Malachai, who dropped the whip, and clutched his ribs.

I slumped to the ground, and tried to regain my breath. Malachai knelt in front of me, grabbed me around the neck and whispered into my ear, "night is coming… We'll see how well you fare." He then stood up, and pulled me to my feet by my arm. I winced as my skin tightened, making the welts on my back burn. "Isaac," Malachai announced, "do He Who Walks Behind the Rows speak about this interloper?"

Isaac slowly paced around us, looking me up and down. "He speaks, Malachai. He always speaks to me." The boy stopped, approached Malachai and glared up into his face. "You are responsible for her."

Malachai and I gaped in unison, and I blurted out, "_WHAT?!_"

That earned me a hand over my mouth and an angry Malachai, "speak NOT, outlander, unless you are told!" The redhead returned his gaze to Isaac's. "I am responsible for this…? Why Isaac—"

Isaac raised a hand and silenced his henchman, "Our Lord has spoken to me; he has chosen you. If she escapes, you are the one who will be responsible, and you will be put to death if she is not found."

"Why was I chosen?"

"He Who Walks Behind the Rows knows your strength—"

"Isaac…" Malachai protested, only to be screamed at.

"DO NOT QUESTION MY JUDGEMENT, YOU FOOL!" With that, Isaac stormed off and left me in the hands of his loyal henchman.

Malachai forcefully released me and ordered me to follow him.

Not wanting – or able – to put up a fight, I obliged. We walked in stoic silence, walked without looking at each other, and walked quickly. It was apparent he either had somewhere to be, or he wanted desperately to be rid of me.

He led me to a run-down shed and told me I was to remain outside while he went in. I kicked at the dirt around my feet and sighed, looking up at the sky.

This Malachai character was something else. It was probably irritating to him that I matched him in fury, and had the ability to dominate him in a fight… Although the next time he attacked I didn't know if I could withstand the tremendous strain it put on me. I certainly didn't enjoy the exhaustion the anger brought on.

_The beatings only ever got worse as the days wore on. _

_ It hurt._

_ I built a barrier; no one could come in, no one could break me._

_ My heart hardened. An emotional breakdown was the last thing I needed. _

By the time Malachai resurfaced, I had wandered to the house beside the shed. It too was run-down, creaky, and dusty. I ran my fingertips over the splintered wood of the door. The entire town, when I thought of it, looked ravaged. I decided to put that behind me.

Malachai stormed up to me, demanded to know why the hell I had left.

"I only walked like three fucking yards! Fuck off, dipshit!" I yelled, getting red in the face.

"By God, you are so… BELLIGERENT!"

"You don't even know what that means!"

"SHUT UP, OUTLANDER! I'll slit your throat!"

"Your God will smite you, fucker!"

He smiled, "Isaac won't be here to stop me, and it will be well worth it to be rid of you! The crows can pick you over!"

"You _do _remember what happened the last time you tried to take me down?" I folded my arms, and withdrew mentally from the verbal fight. "I'm not afraid of you, Malachai," my voice was softer, but defiant nonetheless.

He huffed, put off by my sudden lack of pugnacious-ness. I followed him, silent once more, into the house I had been investigating.

He showed me to a room. It was small, shitty, and reeked of mildew and rotting wood. Or dead animals. Or both. I gagged against the stench and turned to leave.

"You'll get used to it."

"I'm not staying in this shit hole! There are plenty of other fucking empty houses here that probably smell better! Or is this where you keep all of your prisoners…? Do they die here and you fertilize your corn with them?"

Malachai chuckled, "no, but I can keep a better eye on you if you're in this house. It is where I also stay. Isaac holds his sermons in the church beside this house. There is no way out."

I raised my lip defiantly. "So what, do you sleep with me too? Babysit me night and day?"

He shook his head, "no. Once Isaac trusts you, you belong to us."

That was a lovely thought. Belonging to a homicidal cult of pagan children. Just peachy. I forced a sarcastic, wistful smile. "I just hope you like to get your ass beaten."

Malachai glared at me, "shut your mouth, pest." He departed, and slammed my door, and the door to his room. It was down the hall.

_Fucking… fantastic. _


	3. Chapter 3 - Pinch Me, I Must be Dreaming

CHAPTER THREE – Pinch Me, I Must be Dreaming

I wasn't bothered from when Malachai slammed his door, until the sunlight streamed through the windows. Onto my god damn face. I groaned and slumped over into my pillow. The rough fibers of the worn sheets made my skin itch, and I eventually threw the covers off of me, and flailed out like I would if I were home.

An angry stomping tore me from my half-decent sleep, and I heard Malachai grumble, "Outlander!"

"Homicidal freak!" I shouted back.

Malachai kicked open the door. In response I flung my pillow at him, "could you KNOCK?!"

He caught the pillow and his knuckles grew white, "outlander… get… up."

"No."

"Now, or your punishment shall be worse than the lashes."

"Oh please. Get the fuck out." I turned away and wrapped my arms around my head. Almost immediately I felt Malachai grab my hair and pull me onto the floor.

"Outlander, either you will be put to work, or put to death."

"You wanna get thrashed again?"

"You're the one who's going to…"

"To what?" I stood up and faced him, pulling my hair back into a ponytail with one my last hair ties. They were so valuable.

He pulled the hair at the nape of my neck, bringing my face up to his. He then whispered into my ear, softly, "to be… 'thrashed'."

A malicious idea suddenly popped into my brain. I put my hands on Malachai's chest as if to push him away, and quickly twisted his um… nips.

He cried out, let go, and clutched his chest, confused and terrified.

"Sorry, did I interrupt your milk flow?" Wow, lame joke. Why DO men have nipples? I shook my head and folded my arms, smirking.

Malachai stared at me and ran at me. He grabbed my shoulders and I realized that I was in for the same treatment. "Oh no, no, no, NONONONONO! That is sexual assault my friend!" I shoved at him, suddenly anxious and giddy. The redhead wrapped a hand around my throat and pressed down. _FUCK! _

I struggled for air and I figured, hey, a quick purple-nurple wouldn't kill me. But if I struggled the hand around my throat certainly would. For a moment, Malachai did nothing but stare at me. I spit in his face. He snarled and found the spot, and pinched. I let out a cry that sounded way more sexual than I planned.

"Are you DONE?" I managed to sit up as Malachai eased off of me. "My nipple fucking hurts."

He smiled, "good."

"Good?!" I grabbed _his _shirt collar this time, and got up in his grill. "I'll file charges!" _Wait, Elliot Stabler isn't here to save me. No Po-Po whatsoever. _(Law and Order SVU reference).

As I stared at him, I felt a strange urge I hadn't been blessed with in a long time. Malachai just stood there, grumpy as usual, as I processed the emotion.

"Outlander, stop fooling around. Game are forbidden, and Isaac must see you immediately."

We both seemed perplexed and surrounded by a surreal, sort of out-of-body-experience.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" I whispered.

He blinked, and backed away.

I pulled him toward me, "you don't _really _want to kill me. I think you're… jealous of my superiority. It's something you want to take from me." _Just like they did. They wanted to take everything I ever had. My life, my pride, my happiness. Making me bleed only made me stronger. _

"Someone as full of energy as me? Someone as angry as me?" I began to circle him, increasing his level of discomfort. He'd blow up soon enough. "He couldn't want to kill me, no. He would rather beat me, throttle me. But not kill me." I circled around to face him again. I glared, held out my hand. Malachai reluctantly placed his hand on mine. I stared at his palms, calloused from working and, um, killing. I compared my equally calloused hand to his, and though mine was much smaller, they were so similar. _We're both so angry, hurt. _I retracted my hand, and Malachai let his come to rest at his side once more.

"We will give you peace, one day, outlander. Even if it is against Isaac's will." He muttered.

"I'll give _you _some… PEACE. Now close your eyes."

Malachai glared at me.

"Fine, don't." I leaned up, and I fucking kissed him. On the lips. I pulled away and took a good look at him. Malachai was confused.

"Why would you do that?"

"Oh, it's um… It's … ah… it's a punishment, of course." I laughed nervously.

"But I—" _Can't let him find out! Tee-hee. _

I kissed Malachai again, and gently touched his cheek. It was so warm around me, so dream-like.

"Stop, s-stop!" Malachai pushed me back and opened the door. "This is _forbidden. _You'll be lashed again!"

Guilt spread through me and I looked at the floor. "I see."

"Well, Interloper, let's go. Isaac waits."

Malachai grabbed my arm and yanked me out the door, down the stairs, and to the church."

_Well… the plot thickens I see. _

I had to get on Isaac's good side. Once I did, I would be able to make my escape. Malachai would be the first to go… Unless, and this was highly unlikely, he decided to join me. _Bahaha… how… silly! _


	4. Chapter 4 - Of Sticks and Holes

CHAPTER FOUR – Of Sticks and Holes

Inside the church, blood was smeared all over the walls.

_A child shall lead them. _

_ Spill the blood._

_ Follow He Who Walks Behind the Rows._

_ It is as it is written._

Chills ran up my spine, and felt gooseflesh prickle my skin. I thought of huddling close to Malachai, then mentally slapped myself.

We reached the altar and Malachai shoved me toward Isaac. "The Outlander is awake and ready for your word. What has He said to you? Does he speak?"

Irritated at the redhead's constant questioning, Isaac grew red in the cheeks. "Do not question my judgment, Malachai!" He spat the words. Such venom coming from a small child's mouth made my stomach tie itself in knots. Isaac's ruthless gaze returned to my face, "my child, are you ready to witness a ritual?"

"But Isaac—" Malachai protested, only to be cut off by Isaac.

"Hush! It is time to see what your fate is, or what it will be if you do not believe in our ways. If you do not follow us, you will be put to death." Isaac retreated, and turned to a boy sitting on near the altar. "Amos, are you ready?"

This Amos held a blade sheathed with corn to his chest. He was smiling. "Yes, I am!"

"W-What are you doing?" I shrieked.

Amos smiled at me, "it's my birthday."

My jaw dropped and I scratched my forehead, "happy, um… birthday."

"Thank you. This is my rite of passage! I go to Him tonight."

"Uh…" I giggled quietly, "who?"

Malachai grabbed my arm, "He Who Walks Behind the Rows, our God."

I nodded," wonderful."

Amos began carving something into his skin, allowing the dark crimson liquid to drip into a bowl, also made of corn. Soon, I saw that what Amos was cutting into himself was a pentagram. A Wiccan symbol. It suddenly looked more evil than intended by the Wiccans.

I began stepping back, only to be caught around the neck by Malachai. Isaac glared at him, and I closed my eyes.

"You are uncomfortable?" Isaac asked, touching my chin with his dirt-stained childish hands.

"Oh, no, I'm peachy! I mean, watching people drip their blood into bowls is a huge turn-on!"

Isaac smiled, "good."

"Clearly you don't understand sarcasm. I am very uncomfortable."

"Well, my child, you will soon become accustomed to this. After all it is your fate."

"I'm going to have to ruin my perfectly decent boobs to carve a pentagram into my chest?!" I gaped at him.

Isaac was silent. He blinked a few times, turned around, and ordered the children away. Malachai dragged me out the church doors along with the rest of the children of the corn.

"Now where are we going, babysitter?" I smiled.

He huffed and remained silent as we walked. We stopped in front of an ivory house with open windows. "Go in there, talk to Sarah and Job. I have no time for your games."

I said nothing and slammed the door. From the window, I watched Malachai walk away, probably going to speak with Isaac about my lack of cooperation. I rolled my eyes and called out for Sarah and Job. They came to the top of the stairs and invited me up.

In the room, they were playing a game of monopoly. An old turntable was scratchily belting out jazz tunes.

"Shh!" Sarah said as she brought me into the room. "Music and games are forbidden, don't tell Malachai."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I whispered, ruffling her hair. "Now that you mention forbidden things, what else isn't allowed here in Gatlin?

"Interlopers in general aren't allowed here, or to know our ways. Isaac must see something special in you." Sarah grinned at me, her lively blue eyes sparkling under unkempt blonde bangs.

Job nodded, "but I don't know why we even follow Isaac. It's stupid. Just because he was a preacher, everyone believes him!"

"Yeah," I grunted. "So, go on. About forbidden things, and taboo."

Sarah continued, "well, any criticisms of Isaac's way are forbidden, promisc… promis… promise- hibiscus…" she trailed off.

"Promiscuity?" I offered.

"Yes, that. I don't know what it means, but it also outlawed."

"It means having sex with lots of people."

"What's sex?" Sarah and Job inquired in unison.

"It's when… uh…" I racked my brain for an example that didn't involve directly naming genitalia. "It is when a_ stick _goes into a um… _hole _and—"

A blade buried itself in the game board. Sarah, Job, and I stared into the angry face of none other than my babysitter Malachai.

As we all slowly trotted down the stairs, Sarah whispered to me that we were in trouble.

Isaac stood, arms folded when we met him in the church again. He had lit a candle and seemed less than surprised to see us held captive by his loyal homicidal henchman.

"They had a game and music. Which is forbidden." Malachai growled.

Isaac nodded, "I see… take them back, Malachai."

Malachai grew enraged. "But it's FORBIDDEN!"

"So is shoving sticks in holes, but who listens to that?" I shrugged and laughed.

Malachai gaped at me, and Sarah and Job were biting their lips to keep from giggling. Isaac snarled and slapped Malachai across the face. "DO NOT QUESTION ME, HERETIC!"

"Ok, take us back, before Isaac has a tantrum…" I snickered, winking at Malachai. It made him seethe.

The redhead pushed Sarah and Job, now holding hands, ahead of him, and with his other hand grabbed the back of my neck, violently shoving me forward.

Sarah and Job quickly disappeared into the house which I had found them. "Hey," I said defiantly, "don't I get to go?"

"NO." Malachai spat, "YOU get to come prepare for the fertilization ceremony. It is to be held in a few days. At dusk."

"Um, pardon me, what?" I pulled myself out of his vice grip.

"Our population isn't very large. Someone must carry a child."

"Uh… well, count me out."

"You'll be watching, along with the rest of us in the church. It's a ritual."

"Are you going to be killing anyone?"

"I'll slit your throat if you make another wise remark, outlander."

"Call me Sage, baby." I smiled.

Malachai groaned and balled his hands into fists.

"Bring it, tough guy."

"No. You're going to come to the field with me. Under the orders of Isaac."

"Of course. Malachai the Great wouldn't ever want to just spend quality time with lil' ol' Sage." I pouted and poked him in the chest.

Not understanding my intentions, Malachai turned and I followed him to the field. We began gathering corn as the red and pink bled through the sky.


	5. Chapter 5 - Commiseration

CHAPTER FIVE – Commiseration

"It's too bad you can't kill me, isn't it?" I taunted Malachai, running circles around him. I had so much energy to burn, which was weird because I had woken up irritable and tired. "I mean, I bet you want to. I bet you want to split me wide open!"

Malachai's machete flew past me, nearly nicking my arm. "Do you ever stop? Just shut up before I do kill you."

I fell silent and for the next hours or so, we worked in sweaty quiet.

_The blockades are coming back. I'm drowning in solitude. For me, only for me. _

Reluctant, but bored and curious, I retrieved Malachai's weapon and held it out to him. He stared at me. "What?" I asked, "you want me to beat you with it?"

"No, outlander… May God have mercy on you."

"Why so serious?" I play-jabbed the knife at him. "Don't you EVER have any fun?"

"Serving the Lord is my purpose, nothing else," he muttered.

I thought for a moment, and then smiled. "Dance with me!" I cried out, a favorite song blaring in imaginary speakers in my head. /*Look at all the craps I'm not giving about introducing metal to a CotC Fanfic!*/

_Now tell me all about your pain/ Down to the detail/ Don't say it's love/ Your fragile heart feeds my contempt/ Wailing, your sorrow/ Is only my way to comfort you…_

I grabbed his hands and swung them back and forth in conjunction with the imaginary beat. For the first time since I left my home, if you could call it that, I felt free. My hair bounced and brushed both of our faces. Malachai remained stiff and still as I hummed the lyrics.

"Music is forbidden, out—"

I interrupted him by pulling him close to me, acting as the male in a waltz-style dance. I felt as though I had entered a weird, Pagan musical. Malachai The Machete Man: The Musical.

Malachai growled in protest as I swayed with him.

"Outlander… Stop this at once! Do you want to get lashed again?! You must repent for your sins!" He shoved me back violently, and unsheathed his knife once more. "Repent, heretic. On your knees."

I stopped my movement and glared at him, feeling anger burn in the back of my mind. "You are NOT a leader, nor are you my superior."

He snarled and smacked me hard across the face. "We'll see what Isaac has to say about this."

I didn't follow when he began to walk away.

_You broke it. You ruined whatever it was. You struck me in a way reminiscent of them. You will feel my wrath. _

"Burn in hell, fucker." I turned on my heel and sprinted in no particular direction. Malachai was immediately on my heels. "BURN IN HELL!"

I ran for what seemed like an eternity before Malachai found it in himself to lunge and take me to ground. I landed face-first. My body shook from the impact and I remained there. Malachai rolled off of me, breathing heavily. "You… prepare to be punished."

"What can you possibly do to me that _they _haven't already done?! You can't break me, because I was BORN broken! How _blind _are you?!" I screamed, clawing the dirt.

"If it is God's will, you must be broken, or somehow breakable."

"You don't hear God's word! There is no God! If there was, he wouldn't have allowed my parents to turn me into an aggressor with their bare hands." I stared blankly at him.

"Parents?"

"Yeah, those you KILLED. I would have killed mine, diced them up, shot them, bashed their heads in… but there was only one of me. You think I haven't been lashed before?" I laughed. "I've been hit with spoons, belt buckles, and even fuckin' beer can tabs tied to ribbons. All by the people who were supposed to love me and cherish me. Trust me, you can't do worse. There is nothing worse." I looked back at the ground.

Malachai said nothing, and sat on the ground, playing with his knife. It was like a habit, like twiddling your thumbs in class.

"I don't want you to burn, if there is a Hell." I shook my head and sat up as well. We looked at each other for a long moment before I got back onto my feet. "Isaac probably wants us back."

"He's asleep."

"You would know."

"…"

"Take me back, I'm tired. I hurt all over and I would like a shower." I began walking, waiting for him to take the lead. Instead he bent down and ordered me to get on his back. He did this in a begrudging way, as if he felt that he needed to compensate for being such an ass. I let my arms fall around his neck and I rested my chin on his shoulder.

Our quiet, serene walk ended. Malachai gently returned me to the ground and we walked up the stairs. We went our separate ways without a word. I stopped in my doorway.

"Malachai?" I questioned without looking at him.

I felt him listening.

"Sleep with me… I can't be alone right now."

He huffed in disbelief.

"I'll run from you again."

"Fine, have it your way, outlander."

Malachai stomped into my room, threw off his shoes, and unbuttoned his plaid shirt. I found myself staring and feeling hot in the face. He arched an eyebrow at me.

"_What_?" I growled.

"Aren't you going to change?"

"I was _washing _my other clothes. You tackled me. _You _should be doing my cleaning." I huffed.

"Here," he tossed his shift at my feet and collapsed on the bed. I felt his eyes on me.

I made no move to strip.

"Aren't you tired? You were just complaining. Outlander, I swear…"

"My name is—"

"I _know _what your name is."

"Don't look," I muttered, not caring either way, and knowing he would watch. I peeled my damp, muddy shirt from my skin and threw it over a chair. I left my jeans on. They were cold and muddy, but not so much so that I would abandon them while sleeping with Malachai. _Sleeping with Malachai. _My God, that sounded so sexual, and somewhat enticing.

I put on his tent of a shirt, and I smelled him. Masculinity, sweat, and pheromones. It was a distinct smell that was indescribable. But it was attractive to me. I smiled to myself and sat on the edge of the bed. Malachai made room for me, and I shifted so that my back was facing his, and I could see the door. I curled up and closed my eyes. To no avail.

"Malachai…" I muttered.

"Sage?" He responded.

"I can't sleep."

"You need to shut up."

"Maybe you should make me."

"You're so… unbearable." He turned on his back, and I did the same, my arms folded.

"Then make it stop. Put some effort into what you do."

He looked at me, and I smiled quickly, and it became a frown again just as fast.

I closed my eyes again, and I felt him grab my hand. "You said your parents, what was it, sucked?" I heard a laugh in his voice.

"Yes, they SUCKED. That doesn't do what I think of them justice, but I need to let it go." I sighed.

Malachai shrugged, "it stays with you."

"Good night." I took my hand back and returned to my sideways cocoon.

Malachai leaned over, put a hand on my shoulder and planted a soft kiss on my cheek.

I turned to face him, now lying on my opposite side. He was blushing, staring at me. I scooted closer and rested my hand on his cheek. I kissed him like I had done before. But it felt real and wonderful.

Neither of us pulled away and I pressed forward. Malachai let his arm slide around my shoulders to crush me against himself.


End file.
